


press the gas, past the redline, past the horizon

by rinandulric



Category: Formula 1 RPF
Genre: 24 Hours of Le Mans, Explicit Sexual Content, Friends to Lovers, M/M, WEC
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-07-07
Updated: 2020-12-14
Packaged: 2021-03-05 05:56:08
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 6,103
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25129663
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/rinandulric/pseuds/rinandulric
Summary: “You sound like you regret asking me already.”“And you sound like you want to do it but just can’t say yes to me."Lando imagines he'd be perfectly happy spending his year without Formula 1 with no real racing to worry about, but when Max asks if he'd like to join him for the biggest endurance race of the year, he figures there's no such thing as too much reinvigoration.
Relationships: Lando Norris/Max Verstappen
Comments: 28
Kudos: 99





	1. Chapter 1

* * *

_“Are you serious right now?”_

_“I am! They said they had their options open for a third driver and-“_

_“And your first thought was to just blurt out my name?”_

_“Mate- no no no no! I only told them I might know a British guy who’d be good and misses racing.”_

_“Who’d be- ok, I’m flattered that you thought of me but why me?”_

_“Pfft! You say that like you aren’t going crazy, living alone and occasionally going to a track since Barcelona half a fucking year ago.”_

_“I don’t know, Max, I’d have to ask Zak.”_

_“Oh, come on, your boss is cool with it! Didn’t you race a prototype with Fernando some years ago? Wait, that means you’ll be showing me how it’s done.”_

_“You sound like you regret asking me already.”_

_“And you sound like you want to do it but just can’t say yes to me. Unless you already have plans and haven’t told me. You moving to Indy yet?”_

_“Low blow. Look, I’ll ask Zak.”_

_“Is that a yes?”_

* * *

It is true, though, what Max said. Lando’s itch for racing got so intense he’d take an offer from even NASCAR to get back behind the wheel, despite Kimi’s unconvincing stint there. With F1 cancelled for the year, there was no way Lando or really any pro driver would be satisfied with just sim-racing until the next season. Some eventually got their fill by karting, and Lando was ever so happy to spend an afternoon at the track with really any car rather than wash the Renault on his driveway himself out of boredom again. 

He might actually be falling for the underpowered road car. The door hasn’t crushed his fingers yet, for starters.

Of course Zak said yes, no way he would deny him even if McLaren suddenly decided it was time to develop a GTE car for WEC. A couple of email exchanges and phone calls and now he's back to continuously running la Sarthe in rFactor2, only this time the coming race is in the real thing and in an entirely different car.

It's a welcome change of pace, too. Even with everything going on in F1 despite there being no season, Lando felt oddly detached from it, happy to sit on the sideline and say how much he loves living by himself.

There's not much he can do about it, anyway. He stays in contact with all his mates and he can always get himself off with varying _approaches_ if he gets horny, which isn't all that rare.

Lando was ready to resign to the quiet life that is locking himself in his home with little to no responsibilities. Part of him is still second guessing his instinct to immediately go along with Max proposing he drives with him for Aston Martin Racing, but as far as redemption for what happened in the virtual race goes, and finally getting to race this year, this is probably the best thing he could hope for. 

* * *

One aspect of teaming up with Max for a race in the real world didn't hit Lando until the whole team was on a conference Zoom call, and that was the fact that he would be _teaming up with Max for a race in the real world_ , which is not something he ever contemplated. Doing so at Red Bull? Sounds like hell, and God- Buddha?- bless Alex for going through that. McLaren? Better, but he's already getting Daniel, so although it's similar, he'll take any tips Max has to give on that.

 _Tips._ Lando enjoys musing on how Max behaves like a _simp_.

He's still thinking about it. This time the call is between the drivers, all of whom have their cameras turned on, and engineers, all about things they've mostly gone through.

Lando's hand immediately goes to his phone when he hears a notification blast through.

_> What's so funny_

He quickly peeks at Max, clearly picking up that Lando read his message, looking real pleased with himself.

_your face is p funny <_

_missing the clown nose <_

Taking a look at Max's video feed, wall behind him dotted with framed pictures of classic F1 cars, he decides to at least pay some attention to the ongoing call, something Max himself seems to be doing well enough considering Lando gets a message immediately after Max asks what's actually a pretty good question.

_> It's easy to make you laugh_

_> It's lovely_

Lando rolls his eyes, trying not to be not too obvious so he can maintain what little subtlety Max isn't trying to eliminate from the conversation.

_real comedian you are <_

Lando says, still smiling way more than you usually would going over wheel angles.

_> I can send you more selfies if you like it that much _

That immediately gets him to look at Max's feed again. Lando doesn't know how to feel about it. It's a weird moment where they might as well be FaceTiming.

_lose the beard and ill consider it <_

_seriously its awful < _

Lando manages to suppress a giggle when Max frowns going over his beard with the pads of his fingers.

* * *

Hours have passed since that last conference call and just as Lando is about to start streaming, he gets a message from Max, picture included. Lando _knows_ this will somehow wreck him.

Yes, he often gets photos from his friends, from Alex and George to Sacha and Fewtrell. And he is happy to retribute.

But ever since _Max_ started sending him selfies, the first of which he sent while doing a pitstop at the virtual race, somehow cursing their team for the remainder of the race, Lando swears every subsequent selfie Max sends his way instead curses his dick. It is abominable how he can be having a completely normal day and more often than not, as soon as he opens a message from Max with a selfie, he closes his eyes and deeply breathes in, processing how horny it makes him and for what reason. 

Lando does his best not to let that spill through his answers, whether they be written or a photo in return.

This time, though, the picture is only Max with shaving cream all over his facial hair, dramatically frowning at the camera. There is respite in Lando's brain not having immediately been turned upside down.

If anything, he appreciates the effort, and his point of Max behaving like a simp is proven in all its glory.

_bloody marvelous mate <  
_

_just dont cut yourself <  
_

_im about to stream cod you coming? <  
_

* * *

  
Lando visits his new team's HQ with only a portion of the usual staff he imagines working there that day, much like the MTC, continuing to deal with the weird ritual of _not_ shaking hands.

Besides driving on the simulator and posting on social media about it, he keeps it short; asks if it's ok to take pictures of the car, wonders what he's gonna do about his helmet- the usual bright yellow and blue would be weird with the car's lime green. 

On further thought, Max has it easy. White goes with everything and so Lando could just go ahead and reuse his Daytona design. 

By the time he leaves it feels the same way it has every time he's done it before. On his path to his car he thinks about how much of what he's doing is different and what isn't.

Lando doesn't know, doesn't need to, but it asserts in his head how much he wants to get this right. Even if he were to do this race twenty times this year he'd want to make the first one perfect. 

* * *

Racing or no racing, Lando keeps what little good habits he has, like it or not. He's back from the kitchen, half-meal in hand he refuses to directly look at made by his trainer. 

His phone rings and when he sees _Max V_ calling he remembers what about this evening was off.

"Max?"

"Lando! Lando, hey."

"Hi! You made it over ok?"

"Yeah. Yeah, I'm in MK right now. I wanted to message you or something soon as I landed but I rushed to my hotel."

"Wait, you alright?"

"Yeah yeah yeah- I just wanted to make sure I was alone in here quick. I probably used every hand sanitizer I passed by." 

"Covid got you scared like that?"

" _Mate_ , best case scenario if I catch it is I have to pay for a new pair of lungs. I've been in Monaco since March and I was _starting_ to feel safe there. I took off my mask just a minute ago."

"I know what you mean. I really had to convince myself I'd be fine long as I was careful when I went karting and all."

"But you did it. I _have_ been behind the wheel, just by myself. Rented out a track and drove there alone. Even Charles streamed himself karting with a whole lot of people."

 _Not a fair comparison_ , Lando thinks. Max doesn't have the disregard for his own life Charles seems to have. Who goes skydiving anyway?

"Don't sweat it, Max."

"No- Lando, I mean it. You had the balls to do it."

It's small but it's _there_. Max makes things about Lando out of the blue and he can't help but giggle when he talks again, Max following suit when it's clear it got to Lando. 

"I can take you karting while you're here. We never raced in karting, right?"

"Right! You were in juniors by the time I won the world title."

Lando wouldn't lie. He's seen _those_ pictures on the Internet a few times. Simpler times.

"I'd do it tomorrow, Lando, but uh..."

"Oh, you're in mandatory isolation now. Two weeks, right?"

"Shitty, but yeah. Hey, can we video call?"

"Sure."

Lando didn't even think before saying it. He shuffles his hair and rearranges his shirt where it sits on his shoulders to look just that little more presentable. Slouching over his chair, he props his leg up and rests his head on the side of his knee.

"Fresh cut, nice." Max immediately goes over his hair at the comment. He looks as pink as always, and Lando guesses he too would with better lighting. 

It's the usual hotel room. Max sits on the bed and the lights surrounding him are differing tones of white and yellow. The collar on his white shirt is popped, something Lando immediately decides to avoid focusing on.

"You're getting there, too. Really starting to look like pre-Baldo Norris."

The bastard cracks himself up at that, of course. And Lando, being the helpless fool he is, does the same.

"Anyway, I'm gonna be stuck here for 14 days so uh... yeah, I'm showing you around. Wh- What the _fuck_ are you eating?"

"Oh, it looks even worse in person." Lando says through his mouthful, flipping his phone and pointing the camera at the abominable fish before him, laughing when Max audibly cringes.

"The shit our trainers make us eat sometimes... anyway," Max stands up and starts showing off the room, keeping himself in frame while going over his surroundings, "that's where I'll be doing a lot of Netflix, I brought some weights and a mat, there's the balcony, this place has a _nice_ mirror, and, uh, yeah, here's my PS4 case, you remember this thing, yeah?"

"Oh yeah, Suzuka. I still don't know how you play on something so small."

"It's the FIFA grind! You know how it is."

"No I don't! You and Perez were way better than everyone else!" Max snickers before continuing.

"So, yeah, I'm gonna be playing Warzone and FIFA on that, maybe I'll try Rocket League and ask Alex for tips-"

"Max, mate, do _not_ ask Alex he's rubbish at it. I'm way better."

"Good. Now you can't complain whenever I ask you to duo with me, I'll be stuck here, anyway."

Lando likes to feign not loving the attention he gets, but he really does. It's something Max seems to be acutely aware of.

* * *

Of course Lando takes a shower before heading off to sleep. Even if Britain weren't going through a heat wave, he'd prefer not to sleep in his own stink.

He's horny tonight, though.

Way too horny.

He is aware it defeats the purpose entirely. He quickly showered _knowing_ he just wanted to feel fresh and clean, especially _down there_ , before committing to this.

Lando brings a towel with him to his bedroom, half naked and slightly trembling in anticipation, in spite of the amount of times he's done this.

It's quite ritualistic. He lays the towel over the bed and takes off his boxers while teasing himself, already half hard. He sits over his heels, spreading his knees. His gums are already used to this, given his mouth is already watering by the time he spits over his hands, stroking himself slowly while teasing his hole with his index finger.

For as long as he's done this, Lando pictures someone he _knows_ while doing it, from friends with whom he figures it'd be pretty inoffensive, to people he really likes, all the way up to people with whom it would be _pretty risky_. If you've never imagined yourself having amazing sex with someone you interact with on a regular basis, you really aren't living your best life, or so Lando thinks.

This time it's Max, it isn't the first time, but god damn the earlier video call fired him up. The big bed in his hotel room is part of it, he would be _perfectly fine_ with Max stretching him out there, just as Lando is now doing himself in with one finger, going deeper and moving it around to get used to it without subconsciously trying to push it out.

He reckons he'll see a lot more of it too with how Max takes the liberty of sending him selfies and him being stuck there for the time being. Lots of time to imagine himself desperately grasping the white sheets while Max eats him out.

Lando pushes a second finger in, quickly growing accustomed to the sensation and going past his second knuckle, fucking himself in earnest and picking up the pace over his dick. In his head, Max lavishes him with his affection, multiple hands massaging Lando all over his torso and fucking him hard while Lando's foot rests above Max's shoulder. Lando swings his hips into his hand, lowly groaning a _fuck_ when he pictures his hands digging into Max's hips while his own cock fucks him, focusing on the sounds Max would do while being stimulated like that.

Lando whines when he removes his fingers from inside him, quickly spitting and mixing it around them again and fucking himself, this time with three of them, the pleasure enough to look past whatever pain there is. Max moans louder, and so does Lando, having become more liberal with how noisy he gets ever since he moved in by himself.

Between their cries, Max warns he's about to come, again and again, and Lando's mind quickly shifts between Max bursting inside him and Max touching him everywhere. At this point Lando stops jerking his dick, holding it down while focusing on the feeling of his fingers inside him, feeling the perfect spot as if it revealed itself on the final stretch, fucking himself while his come splatters over the towel he sits on. 

Bliss runs through Lando, squeezing his dick and watching some of his come drip over, suddenly conscious of his heavy breathing. He rests his ass on his heels properly, continuing to tease his dick while it softens in his hand. 

It was _intense_ , and his face is deeply flushed. The realization that he put so much into it while focusing that hard on Max and his affections makes him flush even more.

He might be starting to have it _bad_.

The burn in his ass he feels for the next few hours, though? Completely worth it.

* * *

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello! I've been obsessed with this ship since January or so and with all that's been happening I started around 3 other fics on them before publishing this! Writer's block be damned.
> 
> I thought up this setting when they were confirmed to be doing the virtual race and now here we are!
> 
> Gifted for the lovely CRP with whom I have been raving over them for months. Read the stuff they wrote on them, it's great.


	2. Chapter 2

* * *

If someone had told Lando he'd be watching his team race from the comfort of his home knowing his chance would only come in September, he'd tell them to piss off, but 2020 once again throws a number of twists his way, so now he finds himself watching ELMS at Spa-Francorchamps and cheering not only for Zak's team, but also for the single Aston Martin in the field.

Of course, he's not the only one that doesn't have anything better to do, and he's not the one who was forced into quarantine.

"I'd hate to be that guy."

Lando snickers. "Same." It's a far tamer reaction to the replay of the incident that led to the safety car period the race is in compared to how they both yelled in embarrassment at its first showing, Lando quickly switching to howling in laughter when he had his second take at how silly it is that a spinning car forced another headfirst into a barrier.

The safety car period goes on, broadcast shifting from showing more action replays to the standings, ambient shots and the history of the circuit. Lando shifts in the chair from where he usually streams, wistfully sighing at the thought of racing.

"I miss Formula 1." There's a silence, like Lando just spoke to the void. "I mean, my neck doesn't, but..."

There's a snort on the other end, which Lando does a small giggle at.

" _Your neck doesn't._ "

"What? I'm leaning my head just thinking about it."

"Right, and you haven't been pulling Gs on your neck at all lately."

It takes Lando a while to take apart what Max said but when he does, there’s a shudder. Yes, he posted workouts yesterday, yes, he and Max regularly interact on Instagram, so no, this shouldn't be taken like it's something new.

None of this is new. They've watched motorsports together before. They play video games together, sometimes Max sends him a thing or two.

It's not unusual for Lando to fantasize about being naked somewhere nice with Max and the things they would do.

"Lando?" Lando blinks rapidly.

"Hmm?”

"Why didn't you just go with United Autosports?"

It's a good question, and it leaves Lando perplexed. No reason Zak wouldn't let him, it's his team and he's raced for them before and, again, he wouldn't say no to him. Then there's the fact that they're winning everything they set their foot on this year.

"I don't know. You got to me first, I guess."

"What, you were just... waiting for someone to call you with an offer?"

"I guess...? I mean, no! I _really_ wanted to race this year!"

Lando is left with a sour taste in his mouth. As much as he wanted to get back behind the wheel, he was also perfectly content watching everything around him go down. The single biggest thing he criticizes himself for is all he's thinking about now.

He involuntarily closes his hand.

"Max?"

Lando's pretty sure he just interrupted him before he could start.

"You remember what I told you before, right? About last year? How I was... not happy with, just, not being serious enough?"

The same thing he had told the media. _And yet._

"Taking it easy, yeah." Max sounds delicate saying it.

"Yeah... I said I was gonna do better, but here I am, right?" he rests his chin over his hand, pouting at the screen showing cars doing esses behind a Porsche.

"Lando... lockdown fucked us all, and you are putting in work for the team. I know this because you send me pictures from the simulator." Lando slumps back in his chair, unconvinced.

"Not what I meant."

"No- Lando, I don't care about that. That was before. I know you're serious about this, right now. It's obvious.” Lando sighs, stubborn, “Also you were already doing virtual GPs and getting involved in so much I can’t... well, blame you?”

A point was made. No time like the present or whatever, and he _was_ getting himself busy before. More than anything, it asserts in Lando how much he wants to get this right.

A tiny laugh makes its way through Lando before he speaks again.

“Good thing you called me before every race, right?”

“You started that! _You_ called me with thousands of people watching!” The protest in his voice is as fake as it gets, higher tone indicating he’s very much enjoying it.

“You say that like you’d say something special if chat wasn’t there.”

“Well, maybe I would.”

Lando stutters. _A lot._ The flush immediately rises to his cheeks and ears and luckily it isn’t long before he and Max dissolve into laughter again, the moment quickly going back to normal.

“Oh, safety car’s coming in.”

There’s a silence between them, watching the Porsche leave the field behind and anticipating when the leader will storm off.

“Lando?” His voice is deep. Lando knows to listen.

“What?”

“Sorry for saying that. Earlier.”

The awkward air is very much back. It’s not everyday Max apologizes, and Lando doesn’t feel he had to.

“It’s nothing. Thanks for listening.”

* * *

The Clio locks with a pleasant sound. Lando looks around and notices a few rentals.

The air doesn’t feel cold, it’s still August, yet Lando’s hands tremble when he exhales deeply. He’s been in the team HQ many times now, but he knows why he’s nervous to be here today: Max, fresh out of quarantine.

In the half year he hasn’t seen him, Lando freely acknowledges they have grown closer. _Even_ closer. They’ve helped each other for a longer while now, and Lando is especially grateful for the company Max has kept him during that, especially in lockdown.

Same as always. Lando disinfects his hands, greets the people at reception, elbow-bumps the guys he’s getting to know, but soon after he sees Max, in the flesh, after so long. As usual, he’s wearing one less layer of clothing than Lando, light hair short after the recent cut, mask obstructing much of his face but smile still evident when he turns to look at him, the muffled _Lando_ when he calls out to him in a voice he’s become far too familiar with, high and affectionate.

And Lando’s heart drops. In the split second before he calls Max back and walks over to where he stands to properly greet him, he realizes: he likes the guy way too much.

* * *

It doesn’t get much better from there, if at all. Lando finds himself feeling red a lot of the time he’s around Max.

That includes the studio session the team had, during which Lando tried respectfully fixing his gaze on Max (come on, he was the object of attention and the one modeling at that moment), and realized he looks better in green than he thought he would. It certainly does not help when it's Lando's turn to be taken pictures of and is told to look less serious, knowing that's only because he's making up for Max sticking around and being intent to return the staring.

Or when Lando took them karting, as he said they would, and was thorough enough to bring his own snacks and a GoPro for streaming the many sprints he and Max would have, only to be completely unprepared for the sight of a sweaty Max with tired, bulging arms jumping in sight when they changed back to casual clothing. Maybe they should go karting more often, as long as they don't catch each other's eyes with that kind of timing, quickly turning away with sharp exhales.

The sense of normalcy doesn't return when he's home and they're back to playing CoD together.

"Nonono, don't get me, they're all- fuck."

And that's Max getting blown off the game a second time. At this point, Lando's game plan is down to running away and hoping he can buy Max back, which includes a whole lot of Max yelling whenever there's a player Lando _already_ has his sights on.

He gets the drop on a pair equipping loadouts, at which they are already acting up, manages to outplay the third one, and now he and Max howl triumphantly, before Max is dropping in going off about how well Lando played that, which has him feeling progressively warmer as the moment winds down.

"You like being told how good you are, don't you?"

It falls flat. Max's giddy tone simply does not work for this, yet if there's ever been a moment where Lando's felt crimson, this is it. There's a sharp intake of breath as he reflexively moves a hand to cover his mouth, affirmatively humming before really processing what's going on, unintentionally making his voice higher than he'd want. Damn his voice.

"That's cool. It can be our thing."

Lando composes himself, and within ten seconds they're back to melee-ing each other with their guns while trash-talking their skins because, well, _rituals_ , as far as first-person shooters go.

* * *

Alone with his thoughts since he and Max ended the call, Lando is pacing back and forth in his head over how screwed he is about this, and how serious Max is, if at all, which _is_ an interesting concept to delve into, but Lando doesn't even know what the best scenario is anymore.

While on the topic of Max, his mind begins to wander and his crotch begins demanding attention, and really who is Lando if not a horny little man with unspent sexual frustration in the midst of a pandemic. He considers playing some porn in front of him while he's cupping his balls over his underwear but ultimately settles for leaning back and letting his imagination take over.

It's simple: Lando begs - Max gives, Max begs - Lando gives, and before long the bliss peaks in his gut, his breathes become drawn out and there's cum on his shirt, Lando falling off his trance to bite his lip at how hot it would be seeing Max react to the picture, all flush and arousal.

That would be a sight.

* * *

Six months after Barcelona and Lando is back to testing a car he'll be contending a world championship with, only this time said car is far heavier and less grippy than the first (Lando is aware he'd be better off not comparing 2020 to what he had expected from it), and this time it's in Silverstone, which does bring a whole lot of familiarity.

There are no surprises. The track has little to no rubber on it, the car runs as they expected without any issues, pit stops and driver changes are pretty much just as he remembers them, and driving race cars is still the best.

As much as he would like to hammer himself for acting like a teen with a crush, he really enjoys helping strap Max in, especially when practicing in the garage without a helmet, refusing to look Max in the eyes even though he very likely could tell he had a huge smile on his face judging by the quick exhale. Of course, Max, in all his bastard behavior, didn't extend him the same courtesy, looking Lando in the eyes just as he finishes the buckle in the same setting.

The next day starts off with Lando being sent a good morning selfie from Max, fresh off bed and disheveled hair obvious, and Lando sends him a picture of himself and Jon answering the ever-repeating question of breakfast.

_way ahead of u < _

It's a good reminder that this is the second and last morning they will be testing, and after that Max will head back to Monaco. He doesn't know how he feels about it, hating the idea of being needy but still loving whatever is going on between them, if anything at all.

Testing itself is more of the same, Lando is just happy to get this out of the way and be ready for the race. Towards the end he and Max sit on the pit wall while the other PRO car laps the circuit, and Max looks damn good again, fireproofs showing off his wider frame, leaning against the railing with his legs crossed.

They talk all things Aston Martin, exaggeratedly describing the behavior of the car with their hands, the Valkyrie, and how they got to where they are at.

"I don't know. Last year in the partnership, pandemic fucked up the driver... situation."

"What about your team? Wasn't it weird?"

"Not really. I asked Helmut and Christian before going for it and they liked the idea, but social media was honestly just funny."

"When _I_ was announced I just read texts from people I knew. I didn't dare going into comments, like you told me to." Max looks confused for a second.

"Wait, you remember that?" Lando knows he got him, judging by him scratching the back of his head and looking away, a smile obvious behind the mask.

"Yeah. Fucking Pagenaud."

Max looks down, laughing and covering his eyes before quickly looking back at Lando.

"But why? What the fuck did they say?"

"I don't know. You know people on the Internet are friggin' crazy. Probably something about me only being here because you are."

"Well, good thing we both know that's bullshit. I didn't even know you were in talks with the team until it started going around."

Max keeps eye contact with him for a while and Lando looks away, the car passing them heading into Copse right after, the air around them agitating.

When Lando turns his eyes towards Max again he's checking his clock. Judging by how long he's been looking at it he clearly has something on his mind, seeming decided on _something_ by the time he looks back.

"Lando, you free after this?"

In the distance, the car downshifting through the esses rings in his ear, further resetting his brain before it collapses on itself.

"Yes." Lando's not actually sure he said that, spending most of his brain power on what Max asked and the ramifications of your crush effectively asking if you want to spend time with them. " _Yes._ I was thinking of getting McDonald's. You wanna come?"

"Brad cleared me for one cheat meal a week until the race, so sure."

* * *

Or so he said, because they did both drive to the McDonald's a dozen minutes away from the circuit, and while Lando is having the best chicken wrap he can remember biting down on, Max is eating a _salad_ , which ends up being the way Lando learns of how conscious Max has to be about his diet while competing.

The conversation moves on to shows they're watching and are waiting on.

"Max, I keep telling you, you _have_ to watch The Mandalorian before the second season starts."

"I haven't even watched the movies, shouldn't I start with those?"

Max isn't finished saying that by the time Lando is making sounds while licking his fingertips, scandalized.

"You what? Holy crap- ok, that's where we're starting." Lando immediately finishes his food, making sounds while chewing and wiping his hands so Max doesn't think to retort. Instead, Max is fixing his eyes on Lando and he takes a moment to appreciate the sight of him without a mask, sun on the left side of his face creating shadows over the other, everything from his lips up to his brow bones jumping in sight.

" _We?_ "

"Yeah, I was gonna say, _we_ are watching all of the movies later if that's what it takes."

It's a good thing the place is mostly empty, considering it's a McDonald's, because upon noticing Max's arms and hands laying on the halfway point between them, Lando decides to meet them there, warm knuckles brushing warm knuckles and staying there. They're not wearing any team merch, but Lando looks around just to be sure.

"Alright, I've marathoned before. I promise I'm not that guy who talks every ten seconds."

"Oh, thank goodness. It's crap watching movies with people who act like they're filming a reaction video."

Max wheezes at that, dropping his head and laughing proper for a while, bringing a hand up to his face. Lando's not sure if it's contagious or just because he _really_ likes Max but he ends up giggling as well.

By the time they're done Max brings his hand to where it laid before, brushing against Lando's. Max's eyes lead his to the space between them. It's tentative, but Max wraps his hand around Lando's. He feels his heartbeat up his neck now, but he's _so_ happy with this, when Max looks at him to measure his reaction, his expression goes from sheepish to beaming, smiling and again looking away and biting his lip for a second before returning to Lando.

"Can we-"

"Yeah, outside."

Lando responds in earnest, immediately standing up and putting his mask back over his nose to dump the contents of his tray. Max follows and before long they're outside, and clearly they had the right idea, because their cars are parked in consecutive spots on the side of the building opposite the road.

Lando leads him to his Clio so it's Max's back covering them. By the time he turns to him they both have their masks lowered, and when his eyes find Max's he instinctively flicks his tongue out through his teeth, wetting his lips.

"So cute." Max says, giddy, already wrapping his hand around Lando's. He looks up at Max proper, evaluating his lips and the huge nose and how he's supposed to angle himself. There would be embarrassment for Lando at the height gap between them, but then again, he's a 5'6 guy from Britain, so he's gotten used to it.

A hand goes up to his jaw, big and warm, and Lando leans into the touch. He sneaks his free hand to the back of Max's neck, running his fingers through the short hair there. There's a near-silent laugh between them, and Lando can feel Max's breath on his mouth while his heart threatens to burst his ribcage open.

Their lips touch, finally. Even if they fit together perfectly this first time, it still wouldn't be a powerful revealing moment. It's all in how he _feels_ to be doing it with Max, rewarding and natural and _right_. Like so many things with him now, it's familiar, promises something new and through which Lando can become someone he's happier to live as.

Max is right there, kissing him, and as short as it is, Lando feels as though he finally landed on stable ground.

"You want more, or-?"

"Yes, please."

Lando feels Max's sharp exhale on his lips reacting to his answer, their eye contact short lived before they try again, this time angling it better. The hand under Lando's jaw moves to his temple, thumb doing circles on his cheek, the soft touch making his nerves jump.

It's all small kisses, nothing intense or needy. Lando bites his lip and giggles when Max's hand goes down to his waist, Lando sliding his up Max's arm to palm his bicep before getting back to it.

When it trails off, their hands join again, big, content smile endowing Max's features. It's as though they're in their own world, away from the ramifications that the feelings they revealed here, whatever those may be, have in the _real_ one.

"That was nice." Max says with the exact same tone he would if he were reacting to an overtake.

"Oh my God, Max."

Lando snorts and now they're both a laughing mess, still taking in the moment.

Max brushes Lando's knuckles with his thumb when it's done, inspiring but not desperate.

"Talk later?"

"Yeah."

His face is held, a tentative warm hand hardly a weight, a touch he would lean into anytime. Lando closes his eyes and a kiss is planted on his forehead, sweet and hopeful.

He knows his cue. He squeezes Max's hand in his before letting go, disentangling them, and walks backwards to his car's door, keeping eye contact with Max.

Lando's hand is already at the door handle when Max slaps himself with both hands, visibly happy yet at a loss for words, much less action.

"The fuck was that?"

"Nothing, I'm- yeah. I'll call you when I get home."

"Okay." he sounds incredibly daft saying it, but he imagines the higher tone makes up for it.

Max turns and walks around his rental while Lando gets into his own car, immediately slapping himself the same way Max did, because _holy shit_ all of that just happened.

It's probably the best twist the year has thrown his way.

* * *

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Back after so long! Sorry I had to make everyone wait so long for this! No I don't have an excuse or feel the need to give one writing or really just being productive is hard for me.
> 
> Happy holiday season and also happy off-season!
> 
> I also feel the need to say this even though it's wholly unnecessary: I wrote that first part long before the Sakhir GP, so them witnessing that incident is completely unrelated to Max's DNF that race thank you.


End file.
